


The Boon Of Eric

by stripes_and_dots_etc



Category: Wooden Overcoats
Genre: Happy Ending, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Insecure Antigone, Insecure Rudyard, M/M, Protective Antigone, Rudyard trying to be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-13 09:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13567236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stripes_and_dots_etc/pseuds/stripes_and_dots_etc
Summary: Eric Chapman and Rudyard Funn have a conversation. Rudyard makes a rash decision and Eric spends all his free time with him. Eric makes a not-so-startling realisation and Rudyard struggles to believe people like him. How will they get their happily ever after?





	1. Chapter 1

Rudyard Funn tripped over his feet and fell with the crate he'd been carrying landing on top of him. He shouted for Georgie Crusoe to help him, even after she had lifted the crate up. She told him to 'just roll over, sir', but he was too distracted by his distress to hear.

Eric Chapman sipped his coffee from the safety of his funeral home as he watched the scene unfold. He didn't know what was in the crate, but he felt confident that it was something that Rudyard thought would cause Eric's downfall. It would probably only be an inconvenience.

The trouble with Rudyard, in Eric's opinion, was no matter what insane plan the man concocted, or rude thing he said, Eric couldn't help liking him. It was infuriating. Rudyard literally used Eric's name as a curse. He actively tried to run Eric out of Piffling Vale. He crashed Eric's funerals wearing bad costumes with half-baked schemes, which always backfired.

Rudyard had nearly blown Eric up! After that, Eric had done his best to dredge up all his righteous fury and had very nearly succeeded in disliking him. Unfortunately, Rudyard had a habit of endearing himself to Eric and all that fury hadn't lasted long.

That habit meant that despite Rudyard furiously working for his downfall, Eric continued to like him. Worse, it was hard to blame Rudyard for his renewed interest in revenge, even though it wasn't Eric's fault.

He hadn't forced Antigone to agree to a partnership with him. All he had down was make it clear that Antigone had options. She was a fantastic mortician, with amazing ideas, and she had been wasted at  _Funn Funerals_. At least with him she had clients.

Still, knowing he had played a part in damaging her relationship with her brother was... disheartening. Everyone had family issues, though! God knows, they'd fought like cats and dogs long before Eric's offer. The Funn siblings' feud was sad, but it was not Eric's fault. He was not a villain.

The crate slipped out of Rudyard's hand again, this time landing on his foot, and he hopped about shouting in agony. Eric set his mug down with a sigh. If he didn't go check on Rudyard and Georgie soon there would eventually be a trip to hospital. 

He opened the front door and waved his most friendly wave. "Hello Funns! Well, Funn. Rudyard. And Georgie. Hello!"

Rudyard glared, but Georgie waved back. "Hey," she said.

"What're you two up to?"

"None of your business, Chapman!" Rudyard snapped. He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes as he continued, "You would love that, wouldn't you? If I just... if I just revealed all my secrets. Why bother, though? Antigone's doing a fine job of revealing them for me!"

"She really hasn't. We almost never speak of you, Rudyard."

"O-ooh, trying to make me jealous, eh? Well, it won't work!"

Eric sighed and wished he'd brought his coffee with him. Dealing with all this supposed secrecy and betrayal, it required caffeine. 

Before Eric could think of a response, Georgie asked, "Is Antigone busy?"

"She's down with Mr. Fleet. I'm sure she'd love the company, if you want to..." Georgie brushed past him before he could finish.

"Georgie?" Rudyard called after. "Where are you going, Georgie? Stop! Come back!" When Georgie did not come back, or acknowledge him at all, Rudyard cleared his throat and nodded. "Right. You- you go on and give Antigone a piece of our minds." The door shut behind Georgie.

They stood in silence, not looking at one another, for a moment before Eric asked, "What's in the crate?"

"None of your business! It's my crate, isn't it?"

"Fair enough. Are you injured?"

"You want to injure me!" Rudyard shrieked.

"No." Eric frowned at him, uncertain if Rudyard believed his own claim. "No. The crate's heavy and you're... not." Rudyard's mouth tightened into a line so thin that it was nearly invisible. "I'm  _glad_ you're not injured. If you aren't. If you are, then we should call the doctor."

"He's not speaking to me."

"Sorry? Dr. Edgware's not... speaking to you?"

"Well, it's not my fault he's still angry at Antigone and me for getting ill that one time. It's so stupid." Rudyard flopped onto the crate and grumbled, "That was all Antigone's fault, anyway. Damn clowns." Eric fought a smile, since he thought that would offend Rudyard or make him even more suspicious. Then he squinted up at Eric and asked, "How long d'you think Georgie will be?"

"Dunno." Rudyard scoffed and mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like 'typical'. Eric decided not to ask. "Glad for them, anyway."

"Who?

"Antigone and Georgie."

"Why would you be glad for Antigone and Georgie?" Rudyard asked, mystified.

Oh. Maybe he didn't know. Well, it was hardly Eric's place to fill him in. "Never mind." Rudyard narrowed his eyes, but Eric decided a change of subject was in order. "What's in the crate, Rudyard?" He asked again, hoping that at the very least maybe Rudyard would rant at him instead.

Rudyard hesitated, clearly debating with himself over whether or not to answer, then with a flick of his hand, he said, "Bees." Eric stared, first at Rudyard, then at the crate, and back again. "I was going to release them in your shop," he obligingly explained. "They'd sting all your customers and no one would want to go back."

"Seems dangerous."

"That's what Georgie said." Rudyard sighed again and glared at the crate.

Eric sat beside him and ignored Rudyard's grumbles, because he wasn't trying shove Eric off. That was something. Eric braced his hands on his knees and considered how to word his question. It had to be done delicately or Rudyard would rush off in a tiff.

"Rudyard, do you..." he hesitated. If he asked then he would have to deal with the fallout of the answer. With Rudyard Funn there was always going to be fallout. But, well, Eric liked the man too damn much not to ask. "Do you even like what you do?"

"Don't be stupid," spat Rudyard. He twisted his body away from Eric, but his pout was still visible. "No one likes their job."

Eric hesitated because Rudyard was always a contrary man. He frequently disagreed with Eric on principle, even if it was against Rudyard's best interests. But Eric didn't think this was Rudyard acting out.

"Fair enough," allowed Eric, more out of a desire to find common ground than anything else. "But- well, most people who fight for something as hard as you've fought for  _Funn Funerals,_ usually enjoy it. At least a bit."

Rudyard snorted and shook his head. Apparently the idea that Rudyard enjoyed  _Funn Funerals_ was that absurd to him. He faced Eric and demanded, "Are you telling me you like being a mortician?"

"I like people. I like helping them and offering comfort in a difficult time," said Eric. Rudyard stared, his mouth agape, amazed. "Loved ones dying is never fun, Rudyard, but... I put the fun in funerals because people need that hope. They need the reassurance that the pain will ease. That they'll be happy again."

Rudyard's brow furrowed during Eric's speech. His eyes flickered to  _Chapman & Funn Funerals_ and he asked, "Do you think Antigone likes being a mortician?"

"Well, she's certainly passionate."

Rudyard sat on a crate of bees, staring at  _Chapman & Funn Funerals_, and tapping his fingers against his knee. Eric didn't know if Rudyard would say anything else, but he sat with him anyway. It was a slow day.

Finally Rudyard said, softly, almost as though to himself, "Is... is that why I'm... not happy?"

Eric startled, physically shocked by those words. His heart ached at the thought of Rudyard going through life unhappy, and assuming that's just the way it was. Although, considering Antigone had spent years cooped up in her funeral home instead of taking allergy pills, it probably shouldn't surprise him.

The sudden impulse to wrap his arms around Rudyard and comfort him unnerved Eric. Ever since the black-out Eric's desire to connect with Rudyard had taken on a slightly more physical aspect. He shook his head, firmly telling himself that Rudyard wouldn't want that. Especially not from his supposed nemesis.

"I can't answer that, Rudyard. But, if you aren't happy then maybe a change would help. You could change careers. See if something else does make you happy."

Rudyard narrowed his eyes and demanded, "Is this a plot to run  _Funn Funerals_ out of business?"

"I don't have to plot. I just have to wait."

“Touché.” Eric chuckled and the corner of Rudyard's mouth twitched. It was enough for Eric to count it as a victory. Then he frowned again. "There's been a Funn mortician in Piffling Vale for centuries. I can't just give that all up."

"There still will be one, even if it's not you," Eric pointed out. Rudyard shot him a questioning look. " _Chapman & Funn Funerals_, Rudyard. You can find something that makes you happy without betraying your family heritage."

Rudyard flinched, but then he nodded. He stared at the building, his eyes out of focus, and asked, "What would I even do?"

His hopelessness amused Eric. Why were the Funns so nihilistic? Didn't they know life was fantastic? Or at least, that you were supposed to try like hell to make it fantastic? Even if a long time ago your past hadn't been fantastic?

"That's the exciting thing." Eric beamed at him. "Now you've got the whole world ahead of you to discover what makes you happy."

Rudyard grimaced. "Seems like a lot of work."

Eric laughed and clapped Rudyard on the back. He grabbed the back of his shirt and jerked Rudyard back when he nearly fell off the crate. Why was Rudyard so thin? "You'll have a great time!"

Rudyard straightened his clothing with a huff. He grumbled, "Nothing up to this point in my life has made me think that will be true."

"What a great thing to be proven wrong about!" Rudyard glared at him. Eric stood and said, "Come on, Rudyard. I'll help you carry this thing over to the beekeeper's. I'm sure Horatia will know what to do with them.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The door to Eric's office flung open, banged against the wall, and revealed a pale figure dressed all in black. After six moths of partnership and rooming in the same building, Eric had almost gotten used to Antigone's... theatrics. 

" _What_ ," she demanded, breathless with fury, "have you done?"

This was a not uncommon accusation, so he leaned back in his chair and asked, "Was Georgie not able to get in the back door last night?" He had taken to not locking it at night, trusting Georgie to take care of that for him. It was the least he could do after a very awkward encounter with Georgie, Antigone, and a forgiving police officer. 

'What - no - shut up!" Well, it was an unspoken arrangement. "I meant about  _Rudyard_! What have you done to Rudyard!"

A frisson of alarm ran up his spine. Accusations like that were not as frequent and could mean almost anything. Was Rudyard hurt? No, Antigone probably would've led with that. "I haven't seen him in days," he said with a facade of calm. If Rudyard were injured then the situation would demand calm. "Not since the almost bee attack."

"Exactly! He's been running around trying to be assistant mayor!"

Eric relaxed. That was all right, then. "I thought Georgie was the mayor's assistant."

"She is."

"Well, there you go. She won't let him take over."

"He doesn't want to be the mayor's assistant," bit out Antigone. "He wants to be assistant mayor."

"Oh." He grimaced. "How's that been?"

"There've been two  _fires_!" Antigone threw her hands up in exasperation. "This is all your fault!"

"My fault? He's not my brother." It was a cheap shot, but Eric had a vague sense that this might actually be his fault. Not in the usual way it was his fault when Rudyard blamed him for things either.

"No, he's running around saying that everything's fine because  _Chapman_ said he could do it!  _Bloody hell_! How could you let this happen?"

"No hold on," said Eric pointing at her. That seemed like the type of thing a boss would do. Point firmly at their employee.

Antigone narrowed her eyes at him so he dropped his hand before she could do something drastic. "I didn't do anything," he insisted. "He and I were talking and I said he had options."

" _Options_?"

"Yes. Just - all I said, was that he doesn't have to be a mortician all his life if he isn't happy."

Antigone did not move, or appear to breathe, as she stared at him for several agonizing minutes. Minutes. Eric glanced at the clock on the wall and wondered if he should say something. The Funns were great! But they were also a bit like an unstable bomb. One never knew what would set them off.

Then Antigone planted her hands on his desk and leaned forward. "You sent Rudyard into the world with a  _dream_?"

Put that way... "It can't be that bad."

"Look what he's done to you and he didn't even  _want_ to be a mortician."

"Oh god."

"Piffling Vale won't survive!"

"Antigone, what're we going to do?"

"It isn't  _we_ , Eric. It's  _you_.  _You_ put us in this mess,  _you_ get us out!" With that she whirled around and stormed out of the office.

Eric hesitated then said, to the room, "She should've been in theatre."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 _Funn Funerals_ was a gloomy place. If Eric were frank, it looked exactly like the kind of place that would be haunted. The only advantage of  _Funn Funerals_ was that it housed Rudyard and Antigone. Well, it only housed Rudyard now. He was also aware that many would argue that there was no advantage to  _Funn Funerals_. 

Eric knew the truth, though. He knew that you could go over to  _Funn Funerals_ during a black-out in the midst of a storm and find comfort. And maybe it said something about Eric that his idea of comfort was a man bent on his downfall. 

When Eric entered  _Funn Funerals_ , Rudyard was seated on the floor with a mouse by his side as he examined papers scattered across the floors. It wasn't actually that uncommon to see Rudyard with a mouse. It wasn't event that uncommon to see Rudyard talking to a mouse. 

Cautiously Eric said, "Hello, Rudyard."

Rudyard and the mouse turned to stare at him. They glanced at one another, then Rudyard fumbled his way to his feet and cried, "Chapman! What're you doing here?"

The words weren't uncommon from Rudyard, but the tone was more solicitous than Eric was used to from him. "I came to check on you."

"Check on me?"

"Well... you are talking to a mouse."

Rudyard glanced at the mouse, a furrow between his brows. Then he looked at Eric, gestured to the mouse, and said, "Madeleine."

"Right."

"You've met Madeleine, haven't you?" Eric floundered, mostly because he thought he might actually have met her before. "You're in her book."

"Fair enough. Listen, Rudyard, I heard you were trying to be assistant mayor and"-

"That was ages ago," said Rudyard with a flick of his hand. Eric stared. It had only been two days since Antigone had yelled at him about Rudyard's attempts to pursue politics. "I've gone off that."

"Oh. That's... probably for the best." Eric rubbed the back of his neck, awkward in the face of this new information. Half the reason he had finally come to see Rudyard was because Antigone had left a pot of coffee half filled with coffee grounds on the burner that morning as a threat. If Rudyard didn't need to be reigned in, then there was no point in Eric being there. He probably needed to go to tell Antigone that things were fine. 

The fact that Rudyard wasn't actively trying to kick him out was... bizarre. He glanced around the cluttered room and asked, "What've you been doing?"

Rudyard beamed -  _Rudyard beamed_ \- and clapped his hands together. "Madeleine's been helping me with that! Because at first I thought I would become assistant mayor, but that was a wash. Honestly, I don't understand why there was so much commotion."

"Typically, politicians are elected."

Rudyard hummed skeptically and gave Madeleine a Look. She squeaked and he nodded, because Rudyard didn't talk at Madeleine, he talked with her. "Anyway, after that I tried to become a candy-maker. I'm very good with candy."

"How'd Agatha take that?"

"Not well. I don't see why she was so upset." He pitched his voice up higher in a poor imitation of Agatha, "'You can't be an amateur candy-maker, Rudyard'." He dropped his voice again and said darkly, "She's an amateur detective."

"She used to be an actual detective."

"After all that caramel went everywhere," said Rudyard, ignoring Eric's contribution, "I decided to give up candy-making. I'm much better at eating candy."

"Most are."

"Yes. Then I thought that I could become an actor." Eric's mouth twitched at the thoughtful way Rudyard said this, as though he were still considering it. He was certainly dramatic enough to be one, thought Eric. "Except the theatre banned me ages ago. Still have my name written down and everything."

"Why were you banned from the theatre?"

"Oh it was just a stupid misunderstanding. Where would I have even gotten a tiger?" Eric's eyes widened, mostly because he thought that if Rudyard truly wanted to then he could, in fact, find a tiger. Rudyard snorted and murmured something unintelligible to Madeleine. Eric decided not to ask. "Security is tight at the theatre, so after a few attempts to... act my way into the theatre, I gave that up too."

Eric rubbed his forehead. How had Rudyard managed to squeeze so many adventures into so few days? Although, considering their history, Eric didn't know why he was so surprised. Piffling Vale stood no chance against a determined Rudyard. Or, at least, against the consequences of a determined Rudyard's actions.

"Have you thought of something you could plausibly do?"

"Yes," announced Rudyard. Eric dropped his hand and saw Rudyard puffing his chest out proudly. Eric could count his ribs through his shirt. "I've decided to go into the same line of business as Madeleine."

Eric stared at the mouse by Rudyard's feet. She squeaked enthusiastically while Rudyard nodded sagely. He brought his hands back to his forehead. "You're going to be a mouse?"

"What? No! Madeleine is a mouse, but that's not her business. She's an  _author_. She wrote a book! I'm going to write a book!"

"You want to write... a book?"

"Yes. I got the idea because Madeleine was rather put out that I was giving up the funeral business. She wrote her book about our business, did you know? I have't read it, but she assured me it put us all in a very favorable light.

"Anyway, if I'm not going to run a funeral home she can hardly continue her series of memoirs about a funeral house mouse. We solved that problem by agreeing she could us  _Chapman & Funn Funerals_ instead."

"What?"

"Don't worry," assured Rudyard, "Antigone won't mind."

"Rudyard!"

"While Madeleine and I were discussing  _her_ book, I got the idea of writing a book about her. Sort of to return the favor. Ah!" Rudyard's body jerked and he cried, "Look!"

He turned and snatched one of the papers off the ground. Eric braced himself for mediocre writing and ran through a list of possible compliments he could give. Hopefully something better than 'it's the trying that matters'.

Instead of a sheet of paper with words scrawled over it, Rudyard held out a drawing. It was a picture of a mouse - Madeleine, presumably - scribbling in a notebook in a basement that looked suspiciously like the Funn's basement. There was a lump on a table covered by a sheet with a foot sticking out.  


It was morbid and ghastly, but surprisingly whimsical. Eric was torn between telling Rudyard that it was too mature for children and congratulating him on how technically good the picture was. Because Rudyard, it turned out, could draw.

Another picture slipped into Eric's hands, then another, and another. Each was the same combination of morbid and whimsy and technically skilled. There was nothing overtly offensive about the drawings. Any odd deceased feet or hands were tastefully shown, which... only Rudyard. The death and mortality and grief were mostly implied. 

"It's going to help children realize that death is natural," explained Rudyard. "That there's nothing to be afraid of in death or dead bodies." That was almost... sweet. "This way when granny kicks the bucket parents can shove my books at them as comfort."

There is was. "I've got some pictures with part of the story on them somewhere." Rudyard glanced around the floor and frowned. "I've been working all through the night."

"You really want to do this?" Eric asked, waving the papers.

"Of course. I can see it up in lights already," said Rudyard, lifting his hands and curling his fingers in and out in imitation of flashing lights.

"Books don't go up in lights."

"It's the title of the book."

"Titles of books don't go up in lights."

"It's the film adaption of the title of the book!"

"Fair enough." Eric sighed and studied the pictures.

They were quite good. When he glanced back up, Rudyard had sat on the ground and was sorting through the papers. He hummed tunelessly to himself and it was... huh. It was probably the first time Eric had ever seen Rudyard happy.

Eric sat beside him and let Rudyard chatter on about his ideas for his book. A lot of the ideas were good, some were... less good, but he had an actual storyline in mind. There was a faint flush in the hollows of Rudyard's cheeks as he explained everything to Eric. He wasn't just passionate about something, he was happy about it. 

A few hours later, during a sudden silence, Eric looked over and found Rudyard asleep. His head rested on his folded arms and soft snores escaped every few minutes. For several minutes Eric sat and studied his sleeping face.

Rudyard was gaunt and pale with dark circles under his eyes. Circles that came from months or longer without sleep, not just a single night without it. His hair was a bit too long so his fringe drooped into his eyes.

Rudyard looked young and thin and heartbreakingly vulnerable in sleep. Eric wanted to bundle him up, feed him, hydrate him, and protect him. He wanted every single day of Rudyard's life to be as happy as their afternoon together had been and Eric wanted to be present for his happiness. Occasionally, he might even like being the cause of it.

The trouble with Rudyard was Eric liked him a bit too much and Rudyard hated Eric.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Eric spent his evenings at  _Funn Funerals_ \- although. It wasn't really that anymore. The sign was still there, but it was just... Rudyard's home. Rudyard never seemed to mind when Eric showed up.

Mostly Eric brought Rudyard food and made him certain he ate. (Or that was a good excuse when Georgie asked why he went over so often.) There never seemed to be any food in the house. Rudyard was practically skeletal! Rudyard accepted the food without commenting on the oddity of Eric bringing food, but he complained. He complained and complained every time Eric interrupted his work.

He gained weight, though.

Sometimes Rudyard showed off his work when Eric came over. Sometimes they simply talked. Once they started a jigsaw together, but Rudyard got too competitive about who could finish the puzzle first and Eric wound up watching him. It was a surprisingly okay night.

And sometimes Rudyard worked feverishly and silently on his book. Eric found other things to do those nights. He'd put on a film or read or occasionally watch Rudyard work. That latter only lasted until Rudyard felt Eric's eyes on him then complained about a lack of respect and privacy.

One day Eric asked, "Rudyard? Why haven't you closed  _Funn Funerals_ yet? You've still got an open sign." He received a hum in response. "Are you accepting clients?"

"No."

"Then... why not stop putting the sign up?"

Rudyard pouted and said, "Georgie said she doesn't want to be assistant to a writer. If I keep the sign up then I can keep her around."

Eric hesitated. It didn't seem like his place to say anything, but... well. He couldn't have Rudyard thinking that way. "You know she doesn't just hang around because you pay her, don't you?"

Rudyard startled, jerking his hand across the page he was working on, and leaving a dark line across it. After a moment of stunned stillness, he laughed so hard he fell off his seat. Literally. Eric lurched forward in an attempt to catch him, but he fell anyway.

Through his hysterics Rudyard choked out, "You... you think I... pay her?"

Eric rolled his eyes, half annoyed and half amused by Rudyard's delight over his ignorance. "It's not that funny."

"With what?" Rudyard demanded, ignoring Eric. His laughed calmed and he laid on the ground, staring at the ceiling. "We don't have clients. You stole them all." Unlike every other time he'd said that, it wasn't accusatory or angry.

The worst part was that Eric couldn't even argue with him about it. At best he could debate semantics. The clients hadn't been stolen, they'd come on their own. Somehow that seemed worse. "Well, there you go then," said Eric with forced cheer. "Georgie doesn't hang around because she wants to be a mortician's assistant. She does it because she likes you."

"No she doesn't," said Rudyard with an airy flap of his hand. Said, not argued. Another fact, but Eric could argue with this one.

"Georgie's your friend. Of course she likes you."

"No one likes me." A fact again, although this one had an undercurrent - nearly inaudible - of bitterness.

Bitterness felt, experienced, and learned to ignore. Bitterness that comes from a town you've known your whole life turning on you as soon as there's a competitor. From that same town trying to convict you of murder. From a madman exploiting your loneliness to execute his revenge.

"I like you," he declared. Because he did. He liked Rudyard's arrogance, and vulnerability, and pessimism, and art skill, and cold feet, and naiveté, and biting humor, and friendship with a bloody mouse.

And Rudyard snorted because he didn't believe Eric! With his eyes fixed on the ceiling, Rudyard said, "Only because you feel guilty about stealing Antigone."

"I didn't steal Antigone. I just- I like you!" He shouted it because he meant it, and sometimes when you mean things... those things need to be shouted. It wasn't his best working theory, but he was very worked up.

Finally Rudyard lifted his head off the ground and met Eric's eyes. He stared, and stared, and stared. Then he said, "I don't like tomato."

And Eric laughed because he'd brought tomato soup. And Rudyard was such a liar when he was pouting.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eric worried that what he was actually doing was trying to court Rudyard. That when he nagged him to watch a film, it wasn't just because Rudyard was exhausted and needed a break, but because Eric was asking him on a date. Or that when he brought food over it was actually him asking Rudyard to dinner. Or when he talked with Rudyard he was actually trying to chat him up.

Which was ridiculous! If Eric wanted to court Rudyard then he would just say that. Well, not  _that_ exactly, because it was a bit old fashioned to want to court someone. But date, he could say that. 

 _Rudyard_ , he could say,  _I'd quite like to date you._

Oh god, he'd laugh in Eric's face! Rudyard didn't like Eric; he tolerated his presence. He thought Eric was a traitor and a career destroyer and, in a certain light... Rudyard wasn't wrong. From a slightly... skewed perspective Rudyard had a right to hate Eric.

But nobody hated him! Georgie's indifference to him had been about half the reason he'd kept pursuing her. People always liked him, and she hadn't, and the question of  _why_ she hadn't had ate away at him.

He didn't care if she was indifferent to him anymore. He thought they might be friends now, but that was probably mostly because he didn't mind her indifference. Anyway, Rudyard had semi-objective reasons to... not be very fond of Eric. There was no novelty to Rudyard's feelings, so that wasn't the reason Eric was interested.

He had given it a lot of thought.

So it was only slightly intimidating when Antigone burst upstairs, with Georgie trailing behind, and demanded, "What're you doing to Rudyard?"

Eric shot a beseeching look upwards, then decided it would do more good to give Georgie his desperate pleas for help. She smirked and offered him an unhelpful shrug. "Hello Antigone," he said with as much cheer as he could manage. Kill them with kindness, wasn't it? "Georgie!"

"Don't hello me you odious, attractive beast!"

"Attractive?" Georgie asked, amused. She tilted her head and considered him as though the idea of his attractiveness had never crossed her mind. 

"What - no - shut up!  _You_ said attractive!"

"Well, ya are attractive." Antigone flushed up to the roots of her hair and blinked as she tried to process the direction the conversation had taken. Georgie watched her under hooded eyes.

Eric sometimes thought that a lot of Antigone and Georgie's relationship was based on how much Georgie liked flustering Antigone. Which Eric thought was fair when he considered how much he enjoyed a flustered Rudyard.

Antigone only said things like that as a sort of speech tick more than anything else. She didn't actually mean them anyway. Eric had almost gotten used to it by now.

"Antigone," he said in an effort to regain her attention.  There was a moment of stillness before her eyes shifted back towards him. "I'm not doing anything to Rudyard."

"You're spending _time_ with him."

"Fair enough. Why is that such a bad thing? Shouldn't you be happy that he and I are getting on?"

"The last person to spend time with Rudyard, tried to  _blow up_ the  _town_!" Eric winced, because that was actually a good point. "What _are_ you doing? Is this some sort of revenge?"

"Revenge for what?"

"For nearly blowing you up!"

"I think Eric's got another type of blowin' on his mind," drawled Georgie.

Eric's cheeks burned at the implication (partly because she wasn't entirely wrong). Antigone stared at her blankly and asked, "What?"

"Never mind," Eric rushed to say. The last thing he need was Georgie to  _explain_ herself. "You're both wrong anyway." Georgie raised a brow, but he ignored her visible disbelief. "I'm not spending time with Rudyard for any reason other than I like him."

"No one  _likes_ Rudyard."

"Why would you say that?" Antigone was his twin sister. If anyone was supposed to see the appeal of Rudyard Funn shouldn't it be her?

"Because he's a  _Funn_."

"Sorry?"

"Well, there's nothing to be done about it." Antigone shrugged her shoulders with deliberate disinterest.

"No," he murmured, even though he thought Antigone knew what he'd meant. "Sorry, what do you mean 'because he's a Funn'?"

"No one  _likes_ Funns."

"I like Funns," said Georgie.

"No you don't! Shut up!"

Eric hung his head and rubbed his forehead. The conversation was rapidly devolving. Most conversations with the Funn siblings tended to do that. Appallingly, it was that unpredictability was exactly why he liked the Funns so much. 

"Antigone," he said, interrupting a 'yes I do' 'no you don't' argument. He felt her glare at him, but did not look up. "Why haven't you told Rudyard that you're dating Georgie?"

Antigone did that gasp-y shrieking noise that passed for her laughter. "What a ridiculous thing to accuse Georgie of! As if she would"-

"Come off it, Antigone. Eric knows we're dating."

"I- _why_ would you admit to that?"

Eric finally dropped his hands to level his gaze at her and demanded, "Why won't you?"

Antigone opened and closed her mouth a few times, but no sound came out. When it became clear she wasn't going to say anything, Georgie said, "She's got this stupid idea that if people know I'm dating her then I'll leave her. She thinks I care what people think." Georgie snorted. "I'm great at ignoring people."

"Antigone, why- what happened to you and Rudyard?" He demanded. "You're  _dating_ Georgie but, apparently, convinced she'll leave you if people find out about that. Have you ever met Georgie? Rudyard's decided his dream is to write and illustrate a children's book, but every time I compliment him on his drawings he's stunned. Not just stunned! Sometimes he argues with me about whether or not he can draw. Why are you both so disbelieving of good things?"

"Rudyard..." Antigone sat heavily and stared up at Eric. Georgie stood beside her and rubbed her back, her brow furrowed in concern. "He's drawing?"

"How can you not know he's working on a children's book? He's your brother."

"He isn't  _speaking_ to me. He hasn't  _forgiven_ me for betraying him."

Georgie glared at him. Eric cleared his throat and tried to shove aside how awful he felt. Antigone did not need him whinging about his guilt. "Listen"-

"People don't like _Funns_!" Antigone cried, nearly frantic. Georgie sat and took her hand and Antigone gripped it so tightly her knuckles turned white. "No. _Listen_. It's- you  _know_ how it is, Eric. People hate Rudyard and they think I'm dead! We were all each other had and I left. And now Rudyard is  _drawing_."

She released Georgie and pressed her hands together in a prayer pose in front of her mouth and smiled, softly, distantly, tearily. Then she focused on Eric again and insisted, "Ask him why he stopped drawing."

"What?"

"Just do it. You've been spending so much  _time_ with him, so why don't you make yourself  _useful_."

Eric hesitated because he thought he should fight her on whether or not the Funns were liked. He could hardly believe that Antigone was so self-conscious about her family, she was afraid Georgie would leave her if anyone found out they were dating. Georgie, who actively spent time with Rudyard and Antigone as their assistant, despite not being paid.

That meant something. Didn't Antigone know Georgie's devotion to Rudyard and Antigone meant something? How could she not know that Georgie clearly thought the Funns were the best?

But she was clinging to Georgie's hand again and she had thought he was only interested in Rudyard for nefarious purposes. That meant something too.

Antigone worried about the way she and Rudyard were perceived. About their lack of popularity. 

"All right. I'll ask. But, Antigone"-

"Please don't break his heart," she blurted out. Her cheeks flushed but she kept staring at him, defiantly.

He licked his lips, but decided not to deny it. He thought... he thought Antigone needed to know he felt something for Rudyard just as much as Rudyard probably needed to know. So he said, "I haven't even asked him out."

She sighed and the devastation written on her face made him flinch. She cried, "I  _know_ ," then stormed out of the room with Georgie hot on her heels.

Eric sat in the lobby of their funeral home and felt the weight of everything he'd never said press on him. Of everything he'd avoided thinking about because it was complicated.

How the hell were he and Georgie going to convince their individual Funns of how fantastic they were?

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Later that night, Rudyard had his feet jammed under Eric's thighs as he glowered at the telly. A few weeks ago he had announced that he didn't trust the news reporter, so Eric tended to put the news on whenever Rudyard refused to choose something to watch. Sometimes Eric thought that Rudyard just needed someone to take his hostility out on. 

It had only been a few hours since Eric had talked to Antigone. He wondered if Rudyard worried that people didn't like him. Stupid question. He had kept the  _Funn Funerals_ sign up after deciding to become an author purely because he'd thought Georgie would stop spending time with him.

Rudyard and Eric weren't a couple. They touched, but it could all conceivably be passed off as mates. Mates didn't stroke each other's calves, or message the other's feet, or stroke the hair out of the other's eyes, or cuddle on the couch. Mates probably didn't think about doing those things either. 

Did Rudyard know that just because Eric didn't do those things didn't mean Eric didn't care? Would Rudyard be willing to do those things? To cross the line?

Or was Rudyard just content to have a friend? If all Rudyard wanted was friendship, then how could Eric convince him that he was Rudyard's friend because he liked him? Because Eric was willing to be friends or more or... he was just willing. 

Which, wasn't that a bit pathetic for Eric Chapman?

"Rudyard," he said, because if he didn't say  _something_ soon then he would get entirely lost in his mind. Rudyard hummed without taking his eyes off the screen. "Why did you stop drawing?"

He hunkered down on the sofa and complained, "You're the one who made me stop. You said I'd gone too long without 'relaxing'." He turned his glower on Eric and said, "If you were just going to nag me about it then why did you stop me in the first place?"

"I didn't mean tonight," bit out Eric. He adored Rudyard but he wasn't above being annoyed by him. "I meant before. You've clearly got skill, so why did you not pursue it?"

For a moment Rudyard stared at Eric, then frowned thunderously, and grumbled, "Antigone. I thought you  _didn't_ chat with her about me."

"We don't. Normally. But she found out about the book, which I didn't know you hadn't told her about so I brought it up. Why are you still not talking to Antigone?"

"I thought you wanted to know about the drawing thing."

"I can't ask about more than one thing?"

"I'd prefer you didn't ask about anything."

Eric sighed and rolled his eyes. If he thought Rudyard was being sincere then he would have let the matter drop. But he thought Rudyard was being a prat, because that was definitely the defensive mechanism that Rudyard preferred. Eric couldn't blame him too much. His own defensive mechanisms were to be overly charming and to cultivate an aurora of mystery. 

"I just don't understand why you forgave me, but not her."

"Who says I've forgiven you?"

"You talk to me."

"You're never  _gone_ ," he complained, pressing his feet more firmly against Eric's thighs. "Anyway, it's not that I haven't forgiven Antigone. She doesn't live here anymore and I've been busy with my book."

"If you aren't angry with her, then you should spend time with her." Rudyard rolled his eyes, but he didn't argue, which was a good sign. "There are things about her life that you'll miss if you don't talk to her."

"You mean about her and Georgie?" Eric raised his brows. He hadn't thought Rudyard knew about that yet. "I didn't know them dating meant you'd be happy for them. Of course I knew they were dating. Georgie's always making heart eyes at Antigone and talking about how she's the best at secret dating or assignations or being a secret admirer."

"Oh." Rudyard shrugged and seemed disinclined to talk about it anymore. Eric decided that for tonight it was best to let the subject go. If he pushed too hard then it would just wind Rudyard up and create a bigger gape between the siblings. Instead he said, "When did you learn to draw and why did you give it up?"

Rudyard scoffed. "It was just... I just did it growing up. I practiced and read books." He hesitated then shrugged and, with exaggerated casualness, said, "I applied to study art in uni." 

Eric opened his mouth, but stopped himself from asking the obvious question. Because it seemed likely that Rudyard had been rejected and Eric did not want to bring that up. Whatever had made Rudyard stop working on his art, Eric didn't want to encourage Rudyard to dwell on it.

"I was accepted," said Rudyard. He crossed his arms and pouted at Eric. "I know what you were thinking, but you're wrong."

Eric raised his brows at this unexpected information. It- this didn't line up with the vision Eric had of Rudyard's past in his head. He was shocked to find out that Rudyard had left Piffling Vale for uni only to come back and wrap himself up in  _Funn Funerals_. "Oh. That's- why did you stop working on your art then?"

"I didn't attend."

"What?"

"I was accepted, but I didn't attend."

"Why not?"

Rudyard shrugged. "Because there has been a Funn mortician in Piffling Vale for centuries and I"-

"Antigone!" Eric shouted, because this was absurd. Why had Rudyard put so much pressure on himself to be Piffling Vale's Funn mortician? Antigone was the clear choice for that position. Rudyard startled and stared at Eric wide eyed and mouth agape. "You didn't have to be the Funn mortician in Piffling Vale, Rudyard. Why didn't you let Antigone do it and go off with your dream?"

Rudyard stared, and stared, and stared. Then he blinked and said, "Life is an endless series of disappointments and tragedies. There's no point in trying to be happy, because in the end there is nothing for anyone except misery."

Eric grimaced, aghast at the picture of life Rudyard had painted. "No. What? No. Rudyard, why would you think that? Why would you  _say_ that?"

He shrugged and looked away from Eric, his foot inching out from its comfortable position beneath Eric's thigh. "It's what my father used to tell us. Antigone and me."

Eric reached out to grasp Rudyard's ankle, to stop him from moving away, and tried to make eye contact with him again. He considered telling Rudyard that his father had been a depressed arse. Or simply insisting that Mr. Funn had been wrong about life. But instead he said, "You don't believe that. I know you don't. Do you know how I know?"

Rudyard fidgeted for a moment and avoided his eye. Eric refused to speak until he said something though, this was too important. Reluctantly Rudyard murmured, "How?"

"Because I told you that you could be happy in life and you immediately chased after that," Eric said fiercely. "You want to be happy, Rudyard, and you're trying to be happy and that means something."

After a moment Rudyard slipped his feet back under Eric and grumbled, "Your optimism is baffling, Chapman." Eric grinned because he knew what that meant.

It meant that Rudyard was willing to believe him. It meant that Rudyard was still trying. It meant that Rudyard had already felt a little bit of that happiness and was trying to hold on to it.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Eric leaned against the counter as he watched Rudyard argue voraciously with Agatha about whether fee candy classified as 'novel research' or not. Off to one side of the store, Desmond and Nigel wondered, in a rambling, abstract way, if a children's picture book counted as a novel. These were the circumstances in which Eric came to a sudden and not-so-startling realisation.

Eric did not like Rudyard; he loved him.

Eric Chapman was in love with Rudyard Funn. 

He wanted to spend the rest of his life watching Rudyard's antics while Piffling Vale citizens mused about them. He wanted... everything from Rudyard. 

And because sudden and not-so-startling realisations need sudden and not-so-startling declarations, Eric said, "Rudyard?"

"Not now, Chapman!" He shouted, red-faced and glaring at Agatha. "I've nearly convinced her!"

Agatha huffed and snapped, "You've nearly convinced me to arrest you and hang you as a nuisance!"

Desmond asked, "Can she do that?"

Nigel clasped his hands together and said, thoughtfully, "I shouldn't think so. Not without your say so, at least."

"Oh. I don't know if I should say so, Nigey. Hanging him for murder is one thing, but... I don't think Miss Crusoe would be very happy with me."

"No one's hanging anyone!" Rudyard insisted, trying to snatch at a box of chocolates. Agatha grabbed them first and held them out of reach.

"Oh good," sighed Desmond. "That's a relief."

"Rudyard," said Eric more firmly. Sometimes you had to be firm to regain control of a situation. "Rudyard!"

"What! What?" He turned, his hands planted on his hips as he glared at Eric. "What do you want, Chapman?"

Eric hesitated, because he couldn't just  _say_ 'I love you' in Agatha's sweet shop with spectators. It was too impersonal. He opted to start with something small. "Do you want to go to the cinema tonight?" Rudyard's brow furrowed and Eric could see the outrage at being interrupted for something so trivial. "On a date," he added in a rush.

Rudyard reared back as though he'd been slapped. His arms fell limply to his sides as he stared at Eric. He looked... almost...

"Very funny," he hissed, then stormed out of the shop with a bang of the door.

Hurt. Rudyard looked hurt.

"Well," said Agatha, eyeing him with something like distaste, "that was a bit uncalled for."

"I..."

Eric floundered. What had happened? Why had he... left? What was uncalled for? Didn't- did Rudyard not feel at all what Eric felt?

"It does seem a bit mean for a prank," added Nigel. Eric stared at him uncomprehendingly. "Even if it  _was_ Rudyard."

"It wasn't a prank."

There was a moment of silence then the store erupted into laughter. Agatha chuckled as she said, "What, you actually asked Rudyard Funn on a date?" Their laughter died down when they realised Eric was nodding. "You-  _Rudyard_?"

Finally -  _finally_ \- everything that had just happened started to catch up to Eric. "Oh my god," he muttered, horrified. Then he stormed out of the shop himself.

The door to Rudyard's house was locked by the time Eric finally made it there. He knocked on it, but there was no answer. He kept on knocking, because where else would Rudyard go? 

Eric had to explain that Rudyard had it all wrong. There was no joke, or prank, or punchline. There was sincerity, and hope, and... and love.

If Rudyard didn't want to go on a date with him that was one thing. Thinking that Eric was cruel enough to ask him out as a  _joke_ was another thing entirely. Eric had to clarify so that things could be fixed between them.

Just because Rudyard didn't want to date him didn't mean they couldn't salvage their friendship. Hopefully. Eric didn't need Rudyard to love him back!

"Rudyard," he called as he ceaselessly knocked on the door. "Open the door!  _Please_!"

Silence.

" _Rudyard_! It wasn't a joke! I would never joke about something like that!"

The door swung open unexpectedly. Eric tipped forward, catching himself on the doorframe. 

Rudyard frowned at him, his face set and gloomy, looking every inch the irascible fairytale hermit he'd seemed when Eric had first arrived in Piffling Vale. "Go away," he said flatly. Then he tried to close the door on Eric's head.

Eric caught the door with his hand and said, "Rudyard! Listen, I don't know why you've got this stupid idea that I was joking, but I wasn't."

"Has this been your plan all along," Rudyard interrupted. Eric stared at him, panting and panicked. "I thought you felt guilty about Antigone. Has it been this instead?" Eric shook his head, but Rudyard ignored him. "Joke's on you, Chapman. I know better than to think that you would want to date me."

"You're wrong"-

"Of course I was wrong," he spat. "I should've known better than to think that anyone, even someone like you, could have anything but ulterior motives for spending so much time around me."

"My ulterior motives are that I... like you!"

"I should've learnt my lesson after Jerry," he said, thoughtfully. Then he sighed and shrugged. "That's the way of life, though. We never truly learn the important lessons."

"Rudyard," said Eric sharply because that sounded like Mr. Funn talking, "shut-up. Stop it. Now. This isn't- people can like you. There's no reason to think they can't."

It's a mistake. Eric knows as soon as the words have left his mouth that he's erred. Because the heartbreaking reason Rudyard and Antigone think this way is: experience.

"The Funns are funeral people, Chapman," he said unemotionally. "No one likes funeral people."

"I'm"-

"You aren't funeral people. You  _do_ funerals, but you're not funeral people. You couldn't even have a funeral home that's just a funeral. There's a café!"

"We offer other services to provide excellent customer service," said Eric, slipping unthinkingly into defending himself. "Sorry. Not the point.  _I_ like funeral people. I like  _you_."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"Of course you don't."

"Why can't I? Why can't I like bickering with you, and taking care of you, and listening to you complain, and watching you work, and... and just being with you?"

Rudyard crossed his arms tightly around his waist and scoffed. "No one likes those things."

"I do! And damn you for trying to convince me I don't!" Rudyard flinched at his harsh words.

Panic clawed at Eric's chest, sinking its talons in deep and pulling up all of the useless inside bits with none of the proper emotional ones. He was going to lose Rudyard.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I am. I-  _please_ , Rudyard, believe me when I say that I like you. I love you! And you don't have to love me back! You don't. Just... let me be your friend? Let me love you in some small way."

Rudyard gripped his arms so tightly his knuckles turned white and stared. He stared and stared and stared unblinkingly until Eric was sure his eyes would dry out entirely.

Then he blinked.

"Would"- He broke off, bit his lip, and seemed to debate with himself over what to say. Eric waited with breathless anticipation. "You'd really... keep coming around even if I told you I'd never agree to go on a date?"

" _Yes_ ," agreed Eric, relief coursing through him. He was ready to comply with any terms if it meant keeping Rudyard around. "Of course. That's fine."

"Why? That's not funny."

"It's not a joke."

"I..." he trailed off, looking around anxiously. "How can it not be a joke?"

"Because I love you."

"But  _why_?" Rudyard stamped his foot, ignoring his anxiety in favor of impatience.

Eric smiled, because the answer to that was simple. "Because you're you, Rudyard. That's all."

Rudyard uncrossed his arms, placed his hands on his hips, then recrossed his arms over his chest. He said, "I- all right. I'll... go to the cinema with you." Eric's eyes widened in delight. This was more than he had expected after rushing to Rudyard's door. "But," added Rudyard, "Antigone and Georgie will probably follow us there in disguise. So, they'll be on the look out for any pranks."

"Really?" Eric asked, perversely wondering if Rudyard's agreement were a joke.

"Unless you've changed your mind," he said, eyes narrowed.

"No! That's fine! Fantastic! I just... I'm glad you said yes." Eric beamed at him to prove his point and because, well, Rudyard had said yes.

Rudyard frowned at him and Eric knew he was still wondering if this was a prank. Eric knew it would take a lot to convince Rudyard that Eric genuinely just loved him. Georgie was as devoted a partner as he'd ever seen and Antigone still worried about their relationship. Eric and Georgie were going to have to form a club for people trying to convince the Funns of their affection.

The door to Rudyard's house shut in his face while Eric was lost in thought. That was fine. Everything was pretty great actually.

Later, at the cinema, when Antigone and Georgie whisper through the movie three rows behind them, the fire alarm goes off after Eric puts his arm around Rudyard, Madeleine runs up his pants leg, and somehow all four of them wind up covered in butter, Eric thinks the same.

Life with Rudyard is pretty great.  



	6. Epilogue

_One Year Later_

Eric burst into consciousness with a gasp for air as a weight landed on his stomach. Rudyard flopped onto bed beside him and shook his arm. Presumably in case the package tossed on him hadn't woken him.

"Open it, open it, open it," insisted Rudyard.

"Hang on," snapped Eric as he struggled to sit up.

Everyday for the past two weeks Rudyard had gotten up at dawn and headed down to the post office. He spent all day there because he couldn't trust the mail carrier with such an important package. It was the first morning in ages that Eric had woken up to Rudyard and he was a bit annoyed at how happy he was to have been ripped out of sleep by him.

In the middle of Rudyard's insistence for Eric to hurry up, Eric leaned over and kissed him. When he pulled back Rudyard's cheeks had pinked. Eric grinned and murmured, "Good morning."

"Good morning," said Rudyard a bit shyly, because even after all this time he was still a bit shy at demonstrations of affection. Then he cleared his throat and said, "Open the package."

Eric glanced down and saw Rudyard Funn's name and address on the front of a plain brown box. The return address had Rudyard Funn's agent's name and address listed there. Because Rudyard had a book agent who did things like send copies of Rudyard's first ever published children's book to the author.

"Why don't you open it?" Eric asked, offering the package over.

"No. Absolutely not. It has to be you."

"Why?"

"Because," he hesitated, then leaned closer, "you're my good luck charm," then kissed Eric. Then he added, "If I open it then the book will be hideous. Or the box'll be filled with snakes."

Eric raised a brow and repeated, "Snakes?"

"Open it!"

So Eric did.

And there, tucked safely under white packaging paper, was a children's book. Rudyard Funn's art decorated the cover and his name was sprawled across the bottom. Neither man moved for several long minutes as they stared at the book in awe. Eric wasn't sure if Rudyard was even breathing.

Eric picked the book up so he could flip through it, but Rudyard snatched it out of his hands. Eric rolled his eyes, but picked up the second copy instead of chastising him.

"I did this," whispered Rudyard. He held the book up so Eric could see the cover again and repeated, "I did this!"

"I know."

He bounced on the bed and chanted 'I did this' over and over again. Eric watched him with a faint smile and loved him so much his chest ached with it.

Then Rudyard shoved the book in Eric's hands and slid down the bed. He cuddled against Eric, forcing his way under one of Eric's arms, and said, "Read it to me."

Eric kissed the top of Rudyard's head, keeping his lips pressed against him for a long minute, and breathed him in. Breathed in their life together. The home they shared, the life they led, the love they expressed, although not quite second nature but steadily approaching it.

"I'm proud of you, love," said Eric for the hundredth time, because people hadn't said that enough to Rudyard in his life.

Rudyard tipped his head up and awkwardly lurched forward to kiss Eric. He missed Eric's mouth and mostly just smashed his mouth against Eric's chin, but it was still appreciated. 

Then they settled down so Eric could read Rudyard Funn's book over and over all morning. 

 


End file.
